


Safe

by Servena



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: “No! I won’t marry him. I won’t!”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sommerchallenge 2016.

“No!” Sansa screamed as she was running up the steps. “I won’t marry him. I won’t!” She slammed the door shut behind her and threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in the pillows. “I won’t”, she sobbed.

Her fingers were clutching at the sheet until her knuckles stood out white, her breath coming in short, rapid sobs. Her chest, her throat, her face hurt with the violence of her crying, yet she couldn’t seem to stop.

She could feel the mattress give way and then a rough tongue licked over the back of her hand. Lady whined quietly and Sansa pulled her closer, pressing her face into her fur. When she was younger, this was all she needed to calm her down when she was upset. She would curl up with Lady in her lap, and later, when she had outgrown the lap, with her sitting next to her, telling her all her little worries and sorrows. She was safe there, back then.

But she was not a child anymore, and her worries were not little. And she couldn’t imagine a place in the entire world where she would be safe anymore.

The door opened with a creaking sound. She turned around to yell at the intruder, but it was just Arya slipping through the gap and pulling the door shut behind her.

For a moment they just looked at each other. Sansa was wiping over her face in a desperate attempt to regain her composure, but the tears wouldn’t stop running down her cheeks. Hesitantly Arya stepped closer. She was barefoot on the cold stone floor and was only wearing breeches and a tunic. She climbed onto the bed and inched closer.

A loud sob escaped Sansa’s throat and Arya slowly put her arms around her shoulders.

They sat like that until Sansa’s breath finally evened out and she could speak. “I’m scared”, she whispered into Arya’s scrawny shoulder.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him”, Arya says.

Maybe this was a place she could be safe, even if only for a little while.


End file.
